


Away From That Lot

by PiwakawakaOz



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 05:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13563387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiwakawakaOz/pseuds/PiwakawakaOz
Summary: Post season 7.   Having lost a bet to Tormund, Brienne is forced to go on seven 'dates' with him.  The initial agreement is for an hour alone together, after that they must reach agreement at the end of each date for the next.  Mature audiences only.  This is a spin-off from my SanSan story 'Burning A Northern Winter'.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In my SanSan, 'Burning a Northern Winter', Brienne and Tormund meet each other again at Winterfell whilst preparing for the war with the army of the dead, Tormund is as keen to catch the eye of Brienne as he has ever been. He invites her to train with him with dragon glass daggers and they place a wager upon the match. If she wins he must leave her alone for a week; if he wins she must spend time alone with him. Tormund, having won the bet, has Sansa declare they must spend a set amount of time alone together each day for a week to balance the bet Brienne initially made. Starting with one hour, they must reach agreement each day for the next. This is a record of their seven “dates”. 
> 
> If you wish to read their fight it is chapter 7 'Burning a Northern Winter'.

DAY 1 - 1 HR – MORNING

As far as she was concerned one hour alone with the shaggy ginger would discharge the bet, hells half of that would, but her fear that Sansa would declare much more time each day had encouraged her to agree to the arrangement notwithstanding her reservations.

She strode from the room steely faced with Tormund in hot pursuit, a happy grin spread from ear to ear on the wildling as he came up close behind her.

“May I suggest a stroll around the winter garden?” Sandor called out after them, knowing full well it would anger Brienne further. Her peeved grunt in reply could be heard the length of the hall, despite the breaking of fast commotions throughout.

“Where are we going my beauty?” Tormund asked somewhat apprehensively.

Her sapphire blue eyes rolled in her head, even though he followed behind unable to see her ire.

“Away from that lot!” Was her cold reply.

She found herself climbing the stairs to the roof. At least that way their time alone would be hindered by regular interruptions as patrols carried out their watch. Surely the simpleton was not clued up enough to recognise her plan. When she reached the roof, and looked out over the landscape she felt suddenly becalmed. She wasn’t sure why she acted so annoyed around him. In truth she was flattered by his constant attention, though if asked she would deny it until her death. She’d been let down in the past by men, well boys, when she thought upon it. They’d offered false flattery to make her the subject of their japes, and it had undeniably hurt her.

She had to admit, at least to herself, that this seemed different. The wildling appeared genuinely struck by her and had from the moment their eyes had first met all that time ago. His attempts to inflame her desire were beyond crude. (Seriously, was that story about shagging a bear really supposed to garner her attention?) Complexity seemed beyond the man, so she doubted he had it in him to manipulate her the way those boys had done all those years ago.

She knew that there was a hulking mass of man beneath the furs he wore. She’d felt his strength during their fight, the firmness of his muscles and a perplexing heat at his touch. When he’d whispered his sweet nothings in her ear, crude as they were, she’d found her curiosity piqued, even though it angered her to be bested by him. He was certainly handsome of face. After being wild at him when he ultimately won the match, she now found that in the odd moment of reflection she wondered what it would be like to grab him by the beard and pull him into a kiss. It was unlikely she’d find out the answer to that ponderance today. 

An hour, on the roof was his lot, and he looked bloody grateful for it too. He was leaning out over the ramparts alongside her, his hand so near that she felt the heat from the side of it warm her own.

“So, what is it like beyond the wall?” She heard herself say.

He spoke lyrically of the place, its cold tundras, icy fiords, and vast spines of white alps criss-crossing the land. The people were hard and hearty, and free from the oppression of societal expectation. It made her almost long for the place. Society had been hard on her. She hadn’t fitted the mould of what nobility required of a lady in look, nor in action. 

True northern women were as tough as the men, he told her, and no allowance was made for any perceived feminine weakness in battle. They fought alongside the men. No man would hesitate to strike or kill a woman in a fight, or they would find their own life rapidly at its end. If a wildling woman were given the opportunity to meet ladies of the south they would without doubt laugh at them prancing about in their impractical dresses, carrying out their useless past-times. Reliance upon yourself was crucial to survive against the elements and wildlife beyond the wall, and every wildling regardless of sex was proficient at every skill necessary to sustain life.

He told her he would never have left the beautiful vast lands of the true north had he not been forced further south by the army of the dead, but with it he’d become loyal to Jon, an unexpected pleasure, and now he was glad that he had met her.

She scoffed at him and kicked her foot against the wall they looked out over, but again she felt the warm buzz of his flattery.


	2. Chapter 2

DAY 2 – 1 HR – MORNING

“Well, are you coming?” She’d said, glaring at him. 

“Naturally!” He’d said with enthusiasm.

He still walked behind her as they left, but it was just slightly to her side. One could even surmise he was within her peripheral vision. 

Another hour alone to fill. How in seven hells am I to do that? She thought as they stepped out of the great hall and along the corridor. When they reached the courtyard, they stood, looking about. Although many still broke their fast inside, there was already a hive of activity before them. She thought for a moment and strode off towards her room.

“Don’t get any funny bloody ideas.” She said as they approached the door.

Her jaw clenched, and a small grumbling sound escaped her as she spoke again, “Ugh, we’re just collecting some supplies.” 

Turning to glare at him, she lifted the latch and the door swung open, revealing her spartan room. She didn’t mind it that way, needing no reminders of how she would fail to fit the prissy chamber of a proper lady.

“You can carry that lot.” She said, pointing to her armour. 

She gathered up some small items into a sack and they went in search of a quiet corner of the yard. Finding no joy, they walked out the gates and found a fallen log at the edge of a copse of trees to sit upon.

“We may as well make use of the time.” She said, as she set about polishing her armour. 

Podrick, her squire, had become proficient at the task, but not outstanding, so extra attention given to the plate would do no harm.

“I’ve not got a lot of experience with this stuff.” He said conversationally. “A good thick hide is about as much protection as a wildling requires.”

“It’s just elbow grease for the main part. I’m sure you can manage that.” She said tossing a rag at him.

They sat together quietly rubbing the metal, when he surprised her by asking a question. The question itself was not unexpected, what caught her off-guard was that he seemed genuinely interested in the answer.

“So, tell me about your home.” He’d said. “I told you about mine yesterday, tis only fair you share yourself with me.” His grin was hopeful, and ever so slightly charming.

“I come from Tarth, obviously, but I doubt you know where that is?” She said, cocking her head as she waited for an answer.

“You’d be right there.” He said, his smile continuing its charm offensive.

“It’s an island in the Narrow Sea. It’s part of the greater stormlands, which is made up of lands south of Kings Landing. Do you know the area? She asked.

“Know would be a stretch. I’ve heard of the stormlands, and understand where the Narrow Sea is. What’s Tarth like?” He asked, encouraging her to go on.

“It’s a fairly large island and so beautiful.” She said wistfully. “It’s known as the Sapphire Isle for the rich blue water that surrounds it, but a more apt name would be the Emerald Isle. It is green, a green like you have never seen, so lush with high meadows spreading along its many mountains and enticing deep vales. Meadow flowers of every colour explode in spring and summer, and draw clouds of brightly coloured butterflies to their nectar.”

She had stopped polishing the metal on her lap, caught up in her own words. “The mountains provide protection from the prevailing wind, so vegetation grows unhindered. Waterfalls snake craggy rock faces, catching the sun and shining like streaming jewels before crashing into deep blue-green pools.” She found herself visualising it as she spoke, so real was it in her minds-eye she could almost touch it. 

“It would be hard to find anywhere in the whole of Westeros to match its beauty.” She added, and as the word came to her lips she felt intensely aware that she herself did not match the stunning beauty of the home she bore the name of.

“No wonder that’s where you were born.” Tormund said, winking.

Her face twitched uneasily with the comparison he was obviously trying to make, and she looked down at the grey metal in her hand and furiously rubbed it.

“My father is the Lord of Evenfall and the head of House Tarth. I am his only living heir, and no doubt a deep disappointment to him. I don’t know what will become of Tarth when he is gone.” She said with melancholy.

Tormund grunted and spoke, “How could you be a disappointment to any man? You are strong and capable, what more is there to ask of any woman?” He was genuinely confused by the idea.

“It’s not like it is beyond the wall.” She countered, shaking her head. “A woman should be beautiful and meek, and serve no purpose beyond match-making and child-bearing.” She dropped a piece of plate in frustration, with the words running around in her head.

“What nonsense.” Tormund puffed. “A woman should be tough and proud. Meek, what good is that to any man? Meek won’t have your back in a fight, or stop it before it starts.”

He went on, “There’s no such thing as matches beyond the wall. Not when it comes to strengthening allegiances. There’s no hierarchy to climb up, only a bloody great wall if you want to snatch a fresh woman from The Gift to warm your bed and heart, and suck your cock.” 

He grinned and winked again, and she felt herself let out a small laugh. When their hour was over she’d surprised even herself when she found herself offering two hours for the following morning. Suddenly stricken by what the offer may imply, she quickly mumbled something about training for an hour of it. He’d been so delighted, it was hard not to get swept into his enthusiasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Please do leave a comment. Let me know what you think of this and if you've read any of my other stories.


	3. Chapter 3

DAY 3 - 2 HRS – MORNING

He’d hung around her the previous afternoon, as he always attempted to do. You had to admire his persistence. He took every opportunity to be with her, in a crowd, at a meal, any time at all satisfied him. Sometimes he sought her attention, other times he seemed content in her mere presence. She’d found that she was no longer annoyed by it, and by the time the morning arrived she thought she may even be looking forward to their time alone.

They made their way to a field outside the castle without conversation. The snow was patchy, and the ground firm beneath it. She began strapping on the last of her armour and was rejecting his offer of help when she stopped herself, and agreed instead. Feeling her cheeks flush as he buckled an awkward strap, she wondered at how her feelings towards him were changing.

She picked up a longsword and tossed it at him, “Let me see what you can do with this, before we switch to dragon glass.” She said, arching her brow as she spoke.

He caught the grip of the sword without flinching, and it gave her a perverse sense of attraction. It was oddly exciting to see his automatic grasp at an unanticipated object flying within reach.

“Remember, I wear no armour.” He reminded her as he squatted slightly in preparation, rolling the sword around in the air to gain a feel for its weight and balance.

“I’ll try.” She said, before adding “Perhaps.” She tried to keep her face deadpan as she said it, but a faint smile tickled her lips, and her eye betrayed a cheeky glint.

“Fuck me!” He exclaimed, “You swing hard with one of these!” As the clang of their blades reverberated through the air.

“It’s not an occupation for sissy’s.” She grunted as she swung again, their blades colliding mid-air with another loud clang.

He let go a low rumbling laugh, “Oh, I’m no sissy.” He assured her, as he turned and swung again.

Her grunt was loud as she countered the heft of his swing, slipping in snow and landing on one knee as their blades clashed together once more. He leaned over her and breathed in her face, his warm breath heating her skin (or so she hoped), as his lips almost touched her skin as he spoke.

“I’m nothing but man. I assure you.” He said, looking straight into her eyes.

He hovered there for a moment, taking advantage of his dominant stance to underline the point, before stepping back to allow her space to stand. There was definitely something weird going on here, she could feel it. Pushing the distraction out of her mind, she made a few aggressive moves to get him on the back foot, and knocked him off balance with the flat of her blade, so he stumbled and landed heavily on his back.

Rather than humiliating or angering him, he seemed to derive pleasure in her besting him, it seemed to fuel his desire. He was altogether a peculiar man. It did not stop him retaliating aggressively, but he did so in such good humour as if to meet her match, to show her he was worthy of her, rather than attempt to display superiority or put down her sex.

When they switched to dragon glass daggers things got rougher. He was not against pulling her by the hair, and she did not hesitate to grab his beard. They’d roll on the ground together, and one or other would end on top, each time taking a moment longer to regain their feet. At one point she found herself with her face buried in the crook of his neck, his beard brushing against her cheek, and she absently breathed in the scent of his skin mixed with fresh sweat and the lingering smell of the animal skins he wore. 

Helping each other to their feet at the end of the session, she’d not been abrupt in releasing his hand. A moment flashed between them, and she was glad of the heat and sweat of exertion on her face to hide an underlying flush. She released his hand and mumbled about needing a drink and they’d gone over to a nearby stream to rinse their faces and hands, and cup water to their mouths.

Their conversation flowed easily of fighting methods, past victories and defeats, as they wiped down the swords and filled their remaining hour with chatter, before walking together back to the castle. This time it came as a surprise only to him when she offered him two hours the following afternoon.


	4. Chapter 4

DAY 4 - 2 HRS – AFTERNOON

She’d been surprised to see him carrying a basket of food but, after the exhaustion of the previous training session, she knew she’d be grateful for a bite of something after they went at it again. Deciding against armour, she was dressed in a tunic and breeches, having left the longswords behind. Dragon glass spears and dagger-work would suffice for today, in which case there was no need for steel plate. Even she was not convinced by her internal argument, as she removed her cloak, folded it and lay it upon the ground.

She had dressed without armour because she wanted to feel the weight of him, the shape of him on top of her or underneath her. She was never near a man physically unless trying to kill the sod, and always in armour when she did so. Despite their genuine attempts to beat the other, there was something else underlying their angered slashes and stabs, and she wanted the opportunity to feel it.

Feel it she did. When he breathed into her ear, exhausted on top of her it trigged a memory in her body that could not be there. She had no experience of physical love or lust, but there was certainly something her body knew, that she did not. There was a mortal lust when she found herself straddling him, her hand so near his face, wrapped around her dagger handle as she held the blade at his throat. His blue eyes had sparkled at her and his lips twitched, and it took all her power not to drop the dagger and lay her hand softly upon his beard and jaw.

She felt his manhood stiffen beneath her, the skins he wore and her own breeches offering little protection from the power of the blood which pumped rapidly to it. She had hesitated for a moment before climbing off him, and the sparkle in his eye made her feel sure he’d known she’d delayed on purpose.

When they went to the stream to cool their faces, he’d brought the basket with him and a fur, and rolled it out on the ground for them to sit upon and eat whilst they talked. Their hands had met in the basket more than once, and again she was sure they had both felt the delayed reaction, small as it was, of her pulling away. Their conversation turned to the blue light in the sky of the previous night, and she’d been so engrossed in his tale of riding a dragon that she’d not hurried him to finish when their second hour was done, in fact she suspected it was well into a third hour when they finally started making their way back to the castle.

“What of tomorrow?” He asked.

“You may decide when.” She said, bumping her arm against him as she said it to confirm the generosity of the offering.

He smiled broadly. “Sansa told me of an enchanting place and suggested I take you there. It’s only a short ride away, if that would be alright with you?” He asked hopefully.

Her eye narrowed and she looked at him suspiciously, but it was only in mock jest. “Alright.” She said curious. “What time?”

“Dusk.” He smiled. “Meet me at the stables, I’ll be ready to go.”

She nodded, and a small pit of nerves bundled in her stomach that steadfastly refused to shift all night.


	5. Chapter 5

DAY 5 – EVENING 

The tension of anticipation the evening before had given way to a desire to just get on with it, to know what he had planned, and be done with it. But, as she set off for the stables the anxiety crept in again, and she wasn’t sure why. You don’t fool even yourself woman! She knew exactly why. The feel of his cock engorging beneath her had preyed on her mind so often, it was at times as though it were still there.

Making her way down to the stables as the daylight faded, she again only wore breeches and a tunic, but wrapped herself in a heavy woollen cloak. When she got to him, she saw he had saddled only one horse.

“I’ll fetch another.” She said helpfully, stroking the neck of the chestnut mare.

“No need. The track is narrow, and the ride short. I’ve been told one horse is best.” He said, smiling cheerily at her. “You first.” He said, tipping his head towards the saddle.

Looking at him warily, she was relieved he made no attempt to assist her. She’d watched women being lifted on to horseback a thousand times, but her waist and height didn’t make that option graceful, and she was glad to be spared the humiliation. Swinging herself effortlessly on to the mare’s back, she inched herself forward in the saddle to make room for him behind her.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. When she felt him swing up afterwards, and make himself comfortable with his crotch pressed into her behind, the air quickly seeped from her lungs. No wonder this was the more suitable option, she thought.

As usual he wore no cloak, instead layers of pelts kept him warm against the winter cold, and she’d been touched when he reached behind himself to the rump of the horse and grabbed a fur.

“Here.” He said, as he gingerly reached inside her cloak and lay it flat against her front. “This will keep you warmer.”

She thanked him, and pulled her cloak closed over it. His arms embraced her from behind to take up the reigns and he clucked at the horse, as his thighs squeezed its ribs. Passing through the gates, he again reached behind himself and unhooked a wineskin, pulling the stopper out with his teeth, he handed it to her to drink, before satisfying his own thirst. 

Brienne was glad of its rich sour warmth sliding down her throat, not just to quench a thirst and warm her from within, but to settle her steadily increasing nerves. She found herself turning in the saddle at regular intervals to take the skin from him and calm herself.

It was a cold but clear night and she enjoyed gazing up at the stars as they rode north. His chin rested very near her shoulder, almost upon it, and they chatted intermittently passing the time. She could not deny herself the knowledge that she enjoyed the press of his warm body behind her, and was pleasantly surprised that he’d shifted his hips back a little, so his manhood would not rub-up against her as they bounced along. If asked to predict his ploy when hearing of the single horse, that would have been her first suspicion. She felt a certain gratitude that he was not pressuring her that way after all, and began to relax.

 

Not even half an hour had passed, since they left Winterfell, when he said, “I think this must be it.” 

He directed the horse towards a barely perceptible break in the trees, marked by a large rock. You would not have noticed it there, had you not known to look for it, especially in the dark. 

“Where are we going?” She asked.

“You’ll see.” He rumbled in her ear, a teasing tone in his voice.

“Sansa, thought you may appreciate it.” He clarified, as his chest rubbed against her back as his lungs filled with air to speak.

“And she suggested it at night?” She asked sceptically.

He laughed a hearty rumble, “Well, perhaps not.” He said, “That may have been my idea.”

She puffed out a breath of laughter at his candour. “I see you didn’t lie about the single horse being better though.” She said, noting the narrowness of the path they were now on, as snow laden branches brushed against them. 

She shifted slightly in the saddle to allow for the horse climbing a gentle hill, and as she did he seemed to embrace her more. 

“It’s very dark amongst these trees, are you sure you know where we are going?” She asked, only a little concerned.

“Quite sure. Sansa gave very specific directions.” He nodded as he spoke, his chin dipping into the crook of her neck as he did. 

“I’d not drag you out in the dark if I didn’t think it would be worth it.” He said in a low seductive voice. Its warm tone quite took her breath away for a moment, and she was relieved when he pointed out a tall stack of stones ahead to bring her out of her own head. 

“I’m sure that mark ahead must be where we go. We’re to leave the horse here.” He rumbled, as they drew ever closer to it.

He swung himself off first, whilst she pulled the fur from beneath her cloak and lay it on the mare’s neck. Standing close to the horse, Tormund held one arm up to her in case she wished to steady herself. She took his hand, and brought her leg forward over the neck of the horse and slid off. She landed with her body pressed against his, face to face. When his fingers released her hand, she found she wanted to slide it down the side of his face. Throwing caution to the wind, she did, and an errant finger brushed his lip. Their eyes were locked upon each other and the moment was there, she could take it or kick herself later. 

The wine she had drunk helped with the decision. Her hand trailed further down his beard and she gently grasped it, pulling his face very slightly closer to hers. It was all the signal he needed, and they kissed. She felt her knees buckle a little with excitement. The kiss moved swiftly from firm to passionate. 

Opening her mouth to him, their teeth chinked briefly as their tongues found a twisting rhythm. His hands made their way to her arse and she felt shock waves when they squeezed her, forcing her to push back from him to breathe. Her chest heaved, and she laughed at herself. This was beyond her imaginings.

“Best take me where you planned, before we get side-tracked.” She said, as her hand rested on his shoulder, and she wished that it were not gloved.

He seemed mesmerized by her and unable to talk or move for a moment. “Hmm, sure.” He grunted in the end. 

Gathering the furs and a saddlebag he said, “I’ll lead.”

He stepped off the path and into the gap in the trees. “There’s a stair.” He said, “Be careful, it’s basic.”

She stepped gingerly down the rocks and stones that had been placed to ease their descent, and quickly became aware of a stream gurgling beside them. They walked alongside it northwards a short while. Switching her focus back and forth between where she stepped, to the hulk of a man in front of her, she flushed regularly as she thought of their kiss.

“I really can’t imagine where you are taking me?” She spoke up.

“We’re here.” He said, turning to look at her.

As she looked she could see steam rising-up off the water. The moonlight caught on bubbles of a hot aquifer rising-up through the stream. There was one large pool, created by generations of bathers gathering rocks and forming a wall to divert the cold water of the stream away from the hot spring, in turn allowing it to fill a hollowed pool large enough for three or four people. 

Her jaw dropped, and she looked further around herself. There were several small hot pools dotted about in the stream. Large rocks lined the edge of the largest pool and there was a small clearing amongst the trees, where snow barely reached the ground, and leaf litter decayed into a sweet-smelling floor. 

“Sansa told you to bring me here?” She said, incredulous.

“She thought you may like to soak your legs, or more. I can turn my back if you want to bath.” He said, as he lay the furs down in the clearing, sat and took a swig of wine.

She felt as though she should say no, but the steam rising-up from the water looked so good. Instead she took off her cloak and folded it, placing it upon a rock. Bending down, she pulled off a glove and cautiously put her hand in the water.

“It’s lovely.” She said, and sat on her cloak to remove her boots and stockings. 

Rolling the hems of her breeches up she put her feet in the water. “Seven gods!” She exclaimed, “That is wonderful. Come, try it.”

He handed her the wine and removed his own boots, and was soon perched beside her as their feet dangled in the water. She giggled when she looked at him. There is no way she could have imagined this moment.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t look, if I got in?” She queried.

He pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose. “I had thought I wouldn’t, until you laid that kiss on me and now I’m not sure I can manage.” He said truthfully.

She laughed, and leaned over to give him a gentle kiss. “I admire your honesty.” She said, “How about you agree to try your hardest.” She said, standing up and taking her cloak.

“You stay here. Don’t turn around, I’ll see you if you do.” She instructed, as she stepped over to the clearing and quickly stripped off. 

Her feet soon stood at his side, on tip toes escaping the cold of the rock beneath them, her cloak hiding all but her ankles. “Now, stand and turn your back to the water.” She said, watching him the entire time. 

When she felt sure he would not turn, she tossed off her cloak and sunk quickly into the pool. She groaned as her body relaxed into the warmth, its heat sharpened by the contrasting cold. 

“You can turn back around now.” She allowed.

He was grinning as wide as she had ever seen, when he turned to face her. 

“Can I put my feet back in?” He asked hopefully, and he looked as soft and pleading as a begging pup.

She twisted her mouth contemplating it for a heartbeat, “Yes, if you pass me the wine.” She smiled.

He picked up the wine, making himself comfortable on the rock once more and sunk his feet back into the water. Taking a line-of-sight, he turned his head away as he reached his arm out towards where he knew she sat, the wine dangling from his hand. Taking it, she looked at him cautiously, judging his self-control. 

“If you’d like, you may join me. Just don’t sit too near.” She offered.

He stood faster than anyone she had ever seen. His feet flicking water about in their haste. Removing himself to the clearing he stripped off quickly, his pelt clothing landing in an unkempt heap. She tried to offer him the same privacy he’d afforded her, by tilting her head away, but he hadn’t requested it and she felt keen for a look, so she peeped out the corner of her eye. He had no sense of shyness about him and made no effort to cover himself as he approached the pool.

Her lips curled into a large smile the closer he got, and she had to forcefully squeeze one eye shut to obscure such a tantalising view. Her imaginings had not been wrong from what she could tell in the limited light, and as he sunk into the water she let out an involuntary squeal at the naughtiness of her behaviour.

“Hmm.” He sighed, “It is bloody good.”

They eyed each other from the opposite sides of the pool, and grinned sheepishly at one another.

“What are we doing?” She questioned.

“I don’t know.” He said, “But it wasn’t me that started it.”

She slapped the water, splashing him. “You brought me here.” She said, her face serious.

“To soak your feet.” He countered. 

“Bah.” She said, “Unlikely. Why all the furs then?” Tilting her head towards the clearing, spread carefully with warm comfort.

He knew he was caught, and brought is hand to his face to rub it with warm water, attempting to wash off a modicum of shame. 

“It was you who kissed me, and it was you who got naked first.” He said through his grin.

Her mouth fell-open. “I dispute that! It was you who kissed me.” She insisted.

“Hmm, perhaps, or maybe we kissed each other?” He offered, dipping his shoulders beneath the water.

She felt his hand caress her calf and ankle, and she took a deep breath as sparks flew through her blood.

“When did you know I wouldn’t run from you in a place like this?” She asked, curious.

He smiled and let his hand slide further up her leg. “When you sat on me yesterday. You know the moment.” He said, raising his eyebrows, leaning towards her and sinking his mouth beneath the water to make himself appear more predatory.

She could not see the colour of his eyes in the dark, but they sparkled with lust and she should have feared him, but she didn’t. Instead she smiled and raised her own brows in reply, as she reached under the water to run her hand up the arm which he held her leg. They came together instinctively, a force of passion drawing them in.

Already hot from the water, she felt she may faint when his body came up hard against hers. Their lips quickly found the passion they had enjoyed earlier, and her hands drifted over his shoulders and chest enjoying the feel of the hard muscle and coarse hair that grew there. She found herself wrapping her legs about him, and had to push her torso away for breath when his hard cock rubbed up against her stomach.

When they resumed their kiss, she unconsciously crawled up him, so his knob could knock at her entrance. 

“Not here.” He said, surprising her. “It seems like a good idea, but the water washes away your own slickness. You need to be as slippery as an eel to enjoy yourself.” He assured.

Catching the disappointment on her face he said, “If you truly want it, it can wait. I have towels, and the furs are warm and comfortable enough to accommodate whatever you desire.” He smiled, “I can keep you plenty occupied for now.”

His hand found her breast, and she gasped as he rolled a nipple firmly between his thumb and forefinger. Her head tossed back in response and he covered her breast with his mouth, sucking strongly upon it. She was grateful for the cold air about her, with only her bottom submerged in the water. Her heart was racing, and she was burning up. His hands kneaded her buttocks, and her mouth sought his again. 

The thought flashed briefly through her mind that she should protect her maidenhead, and her conscious thought responded with “fuck it!” Why protect her honour when the world was likely at an end? It was a nonsense, and she was known as a practical person. She ground her hips against him, and put her hand amongst his flaming hair. His scent was subdued in the water and she longed a little for the smell of him during a fight.

They revelled in their hands exploring each other, and she nibbled on his ear to his rumbling delight. She sat in his lap looking at him, incredulous that she found herself there. She knew her respect of him had grown, along with her attraction to him, but the fire it lit took her by surprise. 

Her finger traced his lips, before her hand smoothed his beard gently. “I think I want to get out now.” She said.

He climbed out first and moved swiftly to his saddle bag, pulling out towels. He walked back over to the water and despite the cold stood for a long moment looking down at her admiringly, before placing a towel on the rock and turning his back. She watched him walk back to the clearing seemingly immune to the cold and rub himself vigorously with another towel.

“Get amongst the furs.” He said, when he heard her alight from the water. Adding, “If that is what you want?”

He remained still, with his back to her. She appreciated the courtesy he showed her, in turning away, and suspected he knew or guessed ‘the Maid of Tarth’ was no nom-de-plum. She snatched up her cloak as she passed it, and rolled it into a make-shift pillow for them, before sliding between the large furs he had laid out.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked.

“Yes.” She replied, wriggling to encourage the fur to warm her. “But, I’ll be more so when you join me.” A slight quiver in her voice betraying her nerves.

He turned, smiled a huge smile and threw himself under the furs. Their skin collided in an instant, and she fought an internal monologue until her blood boiled strong enough for it to subside. His lips were hot and limber against her own, and she marvelled that she ever thought him a brut. She rubbed herself against his cock which was hardening again after its cold-induced deflation.

He pulled his lips away from hers, “Slow down.” He said. “I have some work to do.”

She wondered what he meant, she felt more than ready to be soiled. He dipped his head beneath their covers, and ran his hands along her ribs, suckling her teats. She pushed her head back into her pillow and sighed in pleasure, as her hand snaked up his back and her fingers tickled his neck.

He began kissing and licking her breasts, and slowly kissed further down her belly. When his nose nuzzled her mound, her legs slammed closed stiffly. A warm hand slid along the inside of her thigh and she relaxed them open once again. He shuffled himself down, and gently found a place between her legs, briefly popping his head up from under the furs to see her face. 

“There will likely be no going back, for you or me, if I carry on.” He warned. “Are you sure, you’ll have me?” He asked, as his hand rested on her hip. 

She could see the worry in his eyes that she may not want him, and it made her sad for the rejection she had heaped upon him. Smiling a small nervous smile, she took an anticipatory breath, before nodding her assent. His head disappeared back under the fur and he kissed her there. Her mind exploded, overstimulated by his touch and the thought. 

His tongue dipped amongst her folds and she grabbed at the fur beneath her, desperate to anchor herself to something. He eased her legs apart further, as his tongue enjoyed long languid licks of her, sucking her flesh gently into his mouth as he travelled her folds, growling softly as he went. 

Dipping his tongue inside the very heart of her, she thought she had met her end, but his mouth moved to gently hover over her nervous nub, when he drew it into his mouth with a gentle suck she sat almost upright and squealed, clawing at his head; leaving even herself unsure if she wanted him to stop or urgently continue. He kissed her along the centre of her belly and she lay back down sedated. 

She felt his fingers massage her folds and was lost again, her breath coming to her in short gasps. He gently probed her with a thick finger, and she winced slightly at the invasion.

His chest brushed along her own as he brought his head back to hover above her. Her nipples stood at attention as he went. He kissed her, a caring but not overly passionate kiss, and she could taste the salty-sweetness of herself.

“You’re as wet as you will ever be.” He said, “I shall take you, if you’ll allow it.”

Her affirmation hitched in her throat, and she coughed slightly before speaking it more clearly. “Yes.” She said, and put her hands behind his head and pulled him into a passionate kiss.

His knob was rubbing against her entrance, and the flame it lit was strong. She could discern the smooth roundness of it, but also the firmness. He pushed himself gently inside her, until he met resistance. Her breath barely came to her, the anticipation of pain so great. He pulled himself back slightly and plunged strongly forward. The sharp sting of pain catching her by surprise, despite her preparedness. She let out a small cry of pain.

Stopping instantly, he said “That will be the worst of it.” And kissed her, before slowly, so slowly, drawing himself out again. 

He entered her again, equally slowly and groaned appreciatively as he did so. He was right, she anticipated another sharp pain, but instead it was more like a graze, which was soon soothed by the sensations of him filling her. Gradually increasing his tempo, he rested his forehead on hers for a moment, and she felt the connection between them deepen. This was not some grateful tumble for him, he took real care to be careful of her, respectful of her, and as his pace quickened she got out of her head and into her body, feeling every motion and spark he caused.

Her breath was being lost to her, and it was clear that his had left him too. He grunted, withdrew himself suddenly and finished himself on her belly. The hot fluid, hitting her in spurts. 

“Gods, that was hard.” He said, as his breath returned to him, still leaning on one arm and stroking his cock. 

“I wanted to cum in you so bad, worse than I have ever felt.” He said, puffing, collapsing his full weight on top of her and squelching together. “Fuck, I just want to fill you to the brim with my seed.”

She appreciated his sincerity, which was doubtless genuine, and wrapped her arms around him with a tight squeeze.

“It will be much better next time, now that you’ve been broken.” He said, rolling off her and on to his side. 

He reached for a towel and wiped her clean, before wiping himself. 

She blinked. “It gets better than that?” She said, finding it hard to believe. 

His laugh was hearty, as he coughed out the word “Much!” 

He leaned across her and kissed her lovingly, his hand drifting to her breast to massage her nipple again. “Just wait until you are healed, then the fun can begin.”

She smiled an excited smile. “Well, that’s intriguing.” She said, tugged his beard and pulling him into another kiss.

When they’d had their fill of kissing, he encouraged her on to her side, and pulled himself up tight behind her. “Do you mind if we sleep a little, before we go back?” He asked.

She wanted to say that she never wanted to go back, that she wanted to stay here in the furs with him for ever. Instead, she said “Fine”, and wriggled her bottom against him to find a comfortable spot.

Hearing his breathing slow and deepen, she knew he was drifting into sleep. His arm became heavy where it lay over her hip and she became hyper aware of what she had done. The inner monologue scratched at the corner of her brain, but she pushed it away, reached the hand of the arm she lay on across herself and took hold of his hand. She entwined her fingers in his, and allowed herself to follow him into sleep, as he breathed warm gusts on her neck.

She woke to the sound of a forest creature scampering in the dark. He’d woken too, and said a groggy, “Should we go?” 

“No.” She replied and rolled out from his embrace to face him. She kissed him, and he rolled on to his back, pulling her against his side, so that her head rested in his armpit. His hand absently travelled the flesh it could reach.

“Fine with me.” He said. “But, I’ll not fuck you again tonight. You’ll get too sore.”

Her face twitched with disappointment, and he caught sight of it. “Believe me, I want to!” He said. I’d love to fuck you until you are sore, but if I do it so soon, you’ll be raw instead.” 

He thought a moment. “I’ve waited this long to have you. You can wait a day to heal a little.” A low rumbling laugh flowed out of him. 

She felt sure the happy sound, escaped him because he’d conquered her finally and the joy overflowed him, or perhaps he laughed at her impatience. Either way, she was glad to hear him happy.

“Sleep some more.” She encouraged him, her hand smoothing over his chest. “We’ll go back before daybreak.”

“Hmm.” He sighed, and quickly drifted back into sleep.

She was glad when she woke before him and carefully reached out of the furs for her clothes. Seven hells! They were cold to the touch and she pulled them into the warmth of the fur, to take the chill from them. Although his mouth had been on her most intimate places, she still felt a shyness about him seeing her naked, and as soon as the fabric warmed, she slid into her breeches and shirt, before pulling her tunic on. He was awake by the time she got that far, her wriggles disturbing him.

“It’s not that bloody cold.” He laughed, at her dressing beneath the covers.

She planted her elbow in his rib, “Maybe not to a savage wildling beast like you.” She said in jest.

Pulling on her stockings and boots, she stood. She gathered up his clothes and tossed them to him, before heading to the water’s edge to wash her face. The warmth of the water still surprised her, even though she knew it would be. The sky was not as dark as it had been, and she knew dawn was not far off. He dressed quickly, and rolled their bedding, gathered the wine skin and towels, and tossed the saddle bag over his shoulder.

“That was …” She was lost for words. “That was special.” She said. 

He reached his hand out to her, and she took it as he pulled her into a kiss. “Our interlude is not quite over with.” He said. “We’ve the ride to enjoy yet.”

She nodded, but felt the disappointment at leaving and lead the way along the edge of the stream, back to the stairs. The horse snorted at them when they appeared. It felt to her as though it were an annoyed parent, expressing disgust.

Her eyes widened when she landed in the saddle. She was indeed aware of discomfort, and realised he’d been right to deny her. He made no allowance to avoid rubbing up against her on the return journey, and she was startlingly aware of his hard cock pressing up against her back. One of his hands found its way beneath her cloak and she pulled off his glove, and lifted her tunic so he may hold his hand against the warmth of her belly.

As they neared the castle she couldn’t hide the childish grin from her lips. The sky was ever lighter, and it was true dawn when they arrived. The guards recognised them and let them in, and they passed the mare off to a bleary-eyed stable boy as soon as they got inside.

“So, what time alone do I get with you this day?” He asked, smugly.

“You’ve had it.” She said, “When it passed midnight.”

He looked crestfallen, and she quickly made him aware of her jest. “Tonight, we shall have our time alone after the evening meal.”

He leaned in to kiss her, and she planted her hand on his chest, holding him back at arms-length. Looking about briefly to see who may be watching, she smiled and let him kiss her goodbye, before he headed off to put the bedding away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your times. If you have a moment more, please leave a comment. Feedback fuels the soul.


	6. Chapter 6

DAY 6 

She was enchanted with her own thoughts when she entered the great hall for breakfast. The small smile could not leave her lips as flashes of her experiences with Tormund floated through her mind and body, stirring her blood, and causing a frisson of excitement in her womanhood.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Jamie whispered in her ear, as he grabbed her arm roughly.

Caught by surprise, his harsh words snapped her out of her indulgent reflections. Her eyes drew narrow, and she pulled herself even more erect than usual as she yanked away from his grasp.

“Out.” She said simply.

“With that fucking wildling.” He sneered.

His whole manner was aggressive, and she was unused to it. “Yes, with that fucking wildling.” She spoke the words calmly, to starkly contrast his own use of them. “His name is Tormund, thank you.” She said glaring at him.

Registering her displeasure, Jamie adjusted his attitude. Shaking his head slightly to help with the transition, he mumbled, “Sorry. I was worried about you.”

She looked at him perplexed and could suddenly see what was obvious - he had not slept. “You know I can take care of myself.” She offered soothingly, tilting her head a fraction, concerned at his wellbeing.

“Yes, yes – but we must talk.” He said. Seeing Tormund approach from over her shoulder, he pulled her away and dragged her into an antechamber. Shutting the door behind them before Tormund could approach, or she could catch sight of him.

“What’s wrong with you?” She said, still calm, as she straightened the sleeve of her tunic that he had so roughly twisted. 

He anxiously paced alongside the length of the long table at the centre of the room, slapping the table top with his palm at the odd moment as he went. Turning to her, he ran his hand over his head, combing his fingers through his hair, as the short spikes sprung back into place. 

“You.” He said, looking straight into her eyes. “You are what is wrong with me. Why did you spend all night with that wildling, it’s bad enough that you secret yourselves away together, day after day?”

“Tormund!” She insisted, annoyed at his refusal to use her lover’s name. “Because I chose to. It’s none of your business, what I do and with whom.” Her blue eyes started shining with anger.

His hand found the back of a tall chair, and he pushed his palm aggressively down onto a carved ball, twisting over it, as if feeling its solidity in his hand would anchor his thoughts. “But it is, it is my business because I make it so. Are you … with him now?” He demanded.

Her mouth fell-open. “That’s none of your concern.” She said, transfixed to the spot, unsure of why he was bombarding her so. Her face was covered with confusion and vexation.

“Gods women! Don’t you know I want you?” He finally spat out, as he moved swiftly towards her. 

Her mouth fell-open again, and her eyes widened with it, her head tilted at the nonsense she heard, not believing her ears. 

“No?” She finally said, “How in seven hells am I supposed to know that?”

“Because I’m here.” He said quietly, his eyes suddenly softening and pleading to her. 

She puffed out a sound of frustration. “How am I supposed to come to that conclusion?”

He flushed. “You’re not, I suppose. I mean, I came to Winterfell to honour my word, but you drew me here as well.” 

She stepped towards him. “For fuck sake Jamie, why didn’t you say anything before?”

He was speaking calmly now, and moved closer to her to take her hands in his. “I don’t know. I just didn’t … couldn’t I suppose.” He seemed almost ashamed of himself as he spoke. “I wasn’t sure … sure that you’d have me, so soon … you know, you know of Cersei?”

She’d never seen him so inarticulate. Not witnessed such a flustered display as the one she just had, and it sure as seven hells confused her. She was so surprised, she barely registered that he held her hands. 

“Well, you’ve had enough time to make it abundantly clear, if it were that important to you. You didn’t make me vaguely aware, let alone a clear declaration.” She said.

“I’m making it clear now.” He said, his voice smooth and silky as he pulled her towards him and pressed himself up against her. He looked deep into her eyes, pleading with her. 

She pulled her hands out of his hold, and she shoved him hard away. “You’ve known me far longer than him.” She said. 

All that time we spent on the road together …” Her thoughts were disorientated, and she struggled to put them in order. She shook her head, and her hands raised towards it trying to grasp hold of the confusion she felt and set it straight.

“You must have known that I desired you at some point?” She said, emphatically.

“Yes.” He, replied. 

“But you chose to say nothing?” She said incredulous, “And now – now I am with Tormund.” She declared quietly as she turned her back on him and walked towards the door. 

“I am happy with Tormund.” She said as she leaned her forehead on the heavy timber door, taking hold of its handle. 

Pulling the door open, she looked back over her shoulder and glared at him, “You’re too bloody late.” She said under her breath, before leaving and slamming the door behind her. 

She stood motionless for a moment on the other side. Looking out into the commotion of the great hall but hearing and seeing nothing. Her heart beat strongly, she wasn’t sure if it was anger or loss. Taking some concentrated breaths, her eyes suddenly focussed on the table where he sat. Tormund was always an upbeat person, jovial and happy but this morning he had a positive glow that outshone all other times she had seen him. She bit her lip, as a flush of carnal memory overtook her body. Letting out a sigh, she forced her feet to move and she made her way to his side.

He gave her a private wink as she approached, but seemed respectful of the hesitation to be viewed as a couple she had displayed when they were outside the stables that morning. He made no move to treat her any differently than he had ever done, and she sought a place on the bench beside him. Climbing over it, she had shot a small smile at him and she had seen his mood warm further and his eyes sparkle in response.

Looking up to see Jamie downcast, standing outside the door she had slammed in his face, watching her, she angled her back towards Tormund, reached over her shoulder to take his arm and draped it over her herself. Jamie must see that he wastes his energy, she thought, that her affection could not be transferred with such a petulant display. 

Hearing Tormund’s breath suck in with surprise, she said “Is this alright?” As she stroked his fingers, which hung before her.

“Yes. Of course.” He rumbled lowly in her ear. “I just didn’t expect it of you.”

“Nor did I.” She replied, as her eye again went to Jamie. His face was blank, and he turned and left the hall.

“Fuck me!” She heard Sandor exclaim. “That looks a bit cosy.” He said, raising his eyebrows at them both.

“Hmm.” Brienne replied, a faint smile tickling her lips, as she raised her eyebrows in affirmation.

“That time alone has done wonders for your attitude towards my large ginger friend.” He said, scratching his beard ponderously.

“I suppose it did.” She replied, “But it wasn’t just the time alone. It was the time together, with him near. He wore me down.” She said finally.

“As long as he doesn’t wear you out.” Sandor said to her, but his eyes darted to his friend sharing the true meaning with him. “There is a war to be won.” 

Tormund laughed, “Oh she’s plenty woman enough to handle me.” He replied, as his other hand came around her to rub the top of her thigh.

“What did the pretty Lannister want?” Tormund whispered in her ear. “He looked plenty pissed. It had crossed my mind to be jealous, when I saw him pull you into that room, but then I tasted you still on my lips, and I thought myself safe.”

She puffed out a breath of laughter. “You are.” She said simply.

When she’d walked down a passageway later that day, Jamie again confronted her. “I suppose that display at the table this morning was for my benefit?” He said quietly.

“Perhaps.” She said. “Or perhaps I was just leaning against the man I choose.” 

Her face was serious, and her jaw clenched. She could not stand his obnoxious display. If any man had ample opportunity to make a declaration to her, it had been Jamie, and he had not. Instead he dangled it in front of her now, when she had made her bed elsewhere, and she felt sure he expected her to leap at it.

“But what does he offer you?” Jamie said. 

She felt a pang of pity for him, he genuinely seemed to be trying to understand her choice.

“He offers me nothing, beyond loyalty, companionship and passion. I cannot think of anything else I require. He has displayed an unadulterated desire to know me, and in turn I have come to know him. He is more than he lets on.” She stopped herself, not wishing to justify her choice. 

“I don’t know why I am explaining myself to you? I owe you nothing beyond the oath I took to find and protect Sansa and Arya. I am discharged from your service.” She finished, and moved to walk away as soon as the words left her mouth, but she found that he once again gripped her arm.

“I’m sorry Brienne, please allow me to apologise for my earlier attitude. When you did not return last night, it sent me crazy with worry, with jealousy I did not know I could feel. I beg of you, please promise you will at least think upon it. That you will consider me; us?”

She stood just looking at him, before placing her hand over his and pulling it from her arm. “I will not.” She said flatly, and walked away.

Her feet carried her to the rooftop, she thought perhaps for the calming view. Looking out she reminisced about her time on the road with Jamie. There had been moments she had thought they shared something. She knew she thought she loved him once, but she had long since put that hope to rest. 

Looking north, she thought she could perhaps make out the path she had taken the night before, but the canopy did not hint at the steamy wonders it hid.

The moment she thought of Tormund, asleep beneath her head, her hand rising and falling on his bare strong chest, a warmth came over her. Her restlessness eased. She saw flashes in her mind of him standing naked, or his hand touching her flesh and the thrill of that touch revisited her skin and made her feel sure of her decision; she wanted more of him. She could never be equal to a Lannister, even a fallen one. Tormund admired her for her physic and skill. He looked for a woman to walk alongside of in every aspect of his life, and as such he was someone she could admire in return. Jamie would just have to live with it.

“Are you alright?” Tormund had asked when he came across her later that afternoon. 

“Yes.” She said. “I had some disconcerting news, but all is well now.” She promised.

“So, where are we to spend our time alone after our meal?” He asked.

She put her hand on his forearm. “I thought perhaps my chamber, but ...” She flushed a little at her presumption, “The bed is small.” 

“I’ll fetch the furs after the meal.” He winked, and she smiled happily in return.

She lit the small fire in the corner of her room, and it crackled as it began to take hold. Standing to survey the room she wondered why on earth she had suggested it? The room was small, and there would be nothing she could do to it to have it match the steamy wonderland of the night before. Perhaps, they would not even be able to recapture the comfort or passion they felt in each other’s arms in a place like this?

Finding herself rearranging small items on a tiny table, she realised her nerves were with her once again. Gods! - What was she doing? She sat on the bed to remove her boots, and pulled her legs up underneath herself to sit cross-legged, and stare at the fire whilst she waited.

He arrived with the furs and two skins of wine and she gladly reached for one. 

“If we lift the bed, and place it against the wall, we could roll the furs out in front of the fire?” He suggested.

She looked at him blankly for a moment, then said “Yes, of course.”

Unfolding her legs, she climbed from the bed and took one end of it. Together they effortlessly lifted it against the wall, and he immediately set about unfurling the furs. The room looked decidedly more comfortable and romantic now, and she was instantly more confident this may not be a disaster after all. She grabbed the pillow from the bed and tossed it on to the fur, before returning to the skin of wine and taking a healthy slug.

She watched him remove his boots and a layer of pelts from himself, before sitting down on the fur. He tapped the ground next to him.

“Come, sit down. Relax.” He said. “There is no rush. At least I hope there is no rush, and that you’ll allow me some time with you.” He winked.

She breathed a sigh of relief, she wasn’t sure why she allowed her nerves to take such hold. She suspected it was the newness of being physical with someone, but deep down she knew it was more likely being emotionally intimate with someone. Always one to be matter-of-fact with people, she never knowingly delved into emotional territory.

Weirdly she felt great trust in him. She was sure he was not just manipulating her for his own pleasure. His charm and interest in her were genuine. He’d been brash in his initial displays towards her, but she suspected that was the wildling way, and he had since developed a gentle encouragement in his courting style.

Removing her tunic, she folded it carefully and placed it on the bed, before moving to sit next to him in front of the fire. They chatted looking into the flame, each propping themselves up by one hand, their bodies tilted towards each other. His fingers stretched out to graze the top of hers, and she felt it charge her flesh, even gripping her between her legs, as though that part of her needed only the slightest reminder to demand another serve.

She turned her head to look at his face, and caught her breath. He was so handsome. His bushy red beard framed his high sharp cheekbones, and his nose was straight and unbroken. She wondered how he had managed that marvel over all his years of fighting. She wasn’t quite sure how to make a move on him, she’d been half-cut the night before, and tugging on his beard had come so naturally. Now, she was sober, despite several pulls of wine. She needn’t have concerned herself, her roving eye had a decent enough effect on him and he soon leaned in for a kiss. 

Gods, he made her hot – not just pulsing with blood, but hot. She pulled her own shirt out of where it had been tucked in her breeches, needing some air on her body. He took the remaining pelts he wore on his torso off, and she lay back smiling. He had tight abdominal muscles that outshone even her own. The fire in her blood worked equally well at quashing her nerves, as the wine had the night before, and she reached up to run her hands appreciatively over his stomach.

He lay down on his side beside her, propped up on one elbow and slid his hand beneath her shirt to feel her own rock-hard stomach. He looked at her reverently, whenever he touched her, making her feel like she was the most perfect specimen of woman ever to walk. It was not an adoration she was used to, and she appreciated it deeply and unquestioningly. He had never for a moment, in the time she had known him, broken faith with that worship. His hand reached her breast and she knew she was doomed. She was equally enraptured by him and the skill of his touch.

He made a small movement of his face and she nodded in return. She wondered how they could read each other so soon into their relationship, but they could. He wanted to remove her shirt, and she wanted him to. Her skin became its own being under his touch, it responded with sparks and fire that she had never known.

When he then removed his own breeches she almost growled in delight. That rock-hard cock was a wand of power. He’d promised her more pleasure than she’d had thus far and, here tonight sober, looking upon it she felt sure he could deliver. Her hand went to it, and her inner monologue went wild. Thoughts of it’s size, texture, hardness, smoothness, veins and perfection collided in her brain. Her fingers all trailed up its length, no digit willing to be left out of the feasting sensation. She became aware of her own sudden wetness, her desire to grab hold of his tool and force it inside herself, to scratch the urgent itch that overwhelmed her. She rushed to remove her own breeches, and he tossed them aside once she had. He leaned over to suckle her teat and the need only grew. 

“Fuck me.” She said, the uncouth word shocking herself even as she said it. She took his head in her hands, and pulled it up so his face could be before hers. 

“I mean it. Fuck me.” She said, her blue eyes startlingly serious.

He grinned smugly, and his hand went to her womanhood, to test the waters, his eyes widening when he felt her slick. 

“Oh, I will, but first a little treat.” He said, as his fingers began to travel.

He rolled her flesh between his fingers, at first gently stroking her, but then he got firm, more demanding of her folds, he squeezed and tugged; stretching her and pinching her with such pleasure. A broad finger slid inside, and pressed firmly on the spongey core to her front. Her breath caught as it did.

His finger curled inside of her again performing a curt drag against the sweetest of spots, her hips rolled backwards. She felt sure he worked towards a goal, one she did not quite understand. He kept on task, the finger finding a brief rhythm, before a second finger joined it for a run. He quickly removed his hand and sucked his own thumb, moistening it. Oh, that sensation when he slid two fingers inside her, she was unused to such exploration and it was delightful. 

That running drag was sending her somewhere. Her breath departed her, only the shallowest of gasps allowed. A power was building, she was caught in her body, feeling the drag, but her mind raced. She was aware this was leading to something epic, the itch within sought some supreme satisfaction as it grew. His thumb brushed her nervous nub and she bucked, but he stayed on task, assured of his rhythm, of its regular thrum. When her peak hit at her core, she heard his growl of satisfaction as she buckled on to her side, and let out a groan of her own.

“You enjoyed that.” He growled, almost aggressively. “Your cunt grips my fingers so hard still. It releases and grips them again and again, its free-will seeking seed it will never find.” 

She knew his smile was broad, though she could not see it. Her eyes were clenched as tightly as her cunt and she rode the pulses of delight with it. She could not speak to him, the sensations at her core were binding her in silence.

“Next time I will make you cum in both your divine places.” He whispered conspiratorially, “You will fall into my control when they hit you simultaneously.”

“There is no wildling wedding, my sweetness.” He continued, “If I snatch you from your bed, you are mine to keep.”

“You will be mine Brienne.” He promised in a husky whisper, filling her ear with his warm breath and her head with his words. You will lay with me and mate with me. Fight with me and kill with me. You will be mine Brienne.” 

He was so assured in his words, in his body language as he leaned over her, dominating her with his shadow. She had no doubt in her mind that every word he hummed would come true. He rolled her from her side where she soothed herself, to her back, and pushed his knees between hers. His cock was right there, rubbing up tantalisingly against her wet flesh, sending great sparks of pleasure as her peak ebbed. He suckled her breasts and kissed her mouth, his tongue strong and demanding. She grabbed hold of his cock. 

“I said, fuck me!” She repeated, remembering her initial demand, her voice coming in a low husky call she had never before heard, as he consumed the flesh where her neck met her shoulder. 

She released her hold on his shaft, shifting her hand to his hip, as she parted her legs further and he pushed in hard; stealing her breath and filling her core. He slowly pulled himself back, she damn near screamed with the itch it induced. 

He could see her torment and rumbled again, “You-will-be-mine.” Each word matched to a firm deep thrust.

The fur beneath her was soft and sensual, heightening her responses to his efforts. Her head rolled, tipped forward, seeking to brace against him. 

“I will be.” She said breathlessly, he smiled and increased his tempo and heft. 

His vigorous efforts on the back of her recent climax, were pulling her apart at the seams. His power was overwhelming her senses, but it was just what she needed, and she clawed at him when he pulled away from her. He was puffing when he pushed her hip, forcing her to roll over. 

“Arse up woman.” He said.

She got on all fours, his hand guiding her. She wasn’t sure she’d like what was coming, wasn’t sure she even knew what it was. He grabbed hold of her hips and pulled them up to align with his own. He was standing on his knees and she realised he would take her like an animal. His fingers parted her folds, and massaged her briefly. She felt his knob pressing inside, its travel so beautiful, encapsulating her need and increasing it in one motion. 

As he thrust she found it hard to decide how to be, she moved between resting on her hands and dropping to an elbow, and back again. The thrusts driving her to lose her self-possession. She was back on her elbow, when she knew – the climax was coming, it would be upon her again. One of his hands rested on her hip, holding her steady, the other snuck under her belly, his finger reaching down beneath her to her nub. It started to rub, and she quickly felt her peak beckoning from there too.

My gods, he would do it! – he would have her undone, she thought. They hit, both peaks crashing upon her, her blood turning white with excitement, her brain overcome, the pulses rolling in over and over, and she dropped to the furs spent. She could feel his spurts of hot seed on her back, as he grunted his release, and she felt joy that he was there too - overcome in bliss. 

He massaged her back and buttocks, spreading her cheeks to the point where pleasure knocked on the door of pain. He rubbed his still hard cock between them, and she knew she could not go back from this. The Maid of Tarth was demolished, and she was glad of it. He let his full weight press her into the fur, her face turned to the side breathing gasps of air through the hairs as they bent with each breath. Her heart pounded beneath her left breast, as she edged back to slow reality.

He suddenly slapped his hands to the ground either side of her and pressed himself up. Grabbing a cloth, he wiped her back, and cupped the cheek of her arse. Wiping himself clean, she turned and watched his erection fade, leaving his manhood hanging slack. She smiled. That cock was a powerful implement and one she had only just begun to explore. She turned herself over and leaned forward to kiss it, before coming on to her knees and kissing his mouth. 

“Did you mean what you said about being bonded together?” She asked.

“Of course, you know I have wanted no-one but you since I first laid eyes upon you.” He said, surprised she could question it.

“In that case, you’d best move your belongings here tomorrow.” She smiled, as she reached behind him and grabbed hold of his arse.

He smiled such a genuine and full smile, that her heart swelled. He kissed her passionately, before punching the air and yodelling a call of success.

She laughed as they tumbled together back into the furs, their skin sliding freely over each other, to find a sweet position of comfort to drift into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is mostly Brienne's POV. If you want to read Sandor and Tormund's boy-talk, it is in 'Burning A Northern Winter'.


End file.
